


So Good (Never Dreamed Of Nobody Like You)

by pansexualorgana (MaximumMarygold)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 0 fucking regrets, F/F, Fem Graves, Fem Newt, Lesbian Gramander
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximumMarygold/pseuds/pansexualorgana
Summary: She was Penelope Graves: Director of Magical Security and it came with perks. Everyone else could suck it, especially as Tina slipped silently from the room and Newt Scamander looked at her with barely concealed awe and blatant gratitude.It was a real good look for her.Penelope may have been a little fucked.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> everyone loves a little femslash right?
> 
> Title from Dandelions by Ruth B! <3

They tell her that Newt Scamander is the one to thank for her continued existence. A whole office of highly trained aurors - highly trained _by_ her, for that matter- and Penelope Graves, Director of Magical Security for MACUSA, had been rescued by a British civilian while her own aurors hadn’t even noticed anything had been amiss while the darkest wizard of their generation impersonated her for three months.

There were… a number of problems with that, and Penelope had three months and two weeks to focus on nothing but that between captivity and recovery.

It also, she uncomfortably admitted to herself as she stared at the ceiling in the wee hours of the morning, unwilling to submit to sleep and the nightmares that accompanied, brought to mind the fact that she had probably been a tad too closed off to her subordinates if none of them had noticed.

Except Goldstein - Tina. Tina had realized that something was strange, even if her immediate response hadn’t been Grindelwald wearing her boss’ face, which honestly who’s immediate response _would_ have been? Through the reports Penelope had read she’d discerned that real reason behind Tina’s demotion had been that she’d started asking questions that Grindelwald hadn’t liked.

That alone was enough for Penelope to call for the auror’s reinstatement, effective immediately, from her hospital bed at St. Barts. Tina had come to visit, after that, a bemused if grateful smile on her face and a bouquet of strange, golden brown and purple flowers.

“These are from Newt,” she explained, waving her wand absently and filling an empty vase, “they’re called Crumpton’s Crumpets I believe.” Settling into the chair next to Penelope’s bed she pulled a bottle of something dark from inside her enchanted clutch, “She made wine from it as well. Something about nightmares?”

“Dispelling nightmares,” Penelope mumbled, her fingers reaching out to brush over the feather soft petals. She’d gotten straight A’s in herbology, “The flowers themselves are edible and often ground into a powder and sprinkled over food when someone is suffering from a loss of appetite.” It was a… very touching gesture, for Ms. Scamander to consider not only that she would probably suffer from nightmares after her ordeal but also that she may have trouble _eating_ around the lingering side effects of prolonged torture and confinement, “Express my deepest thanks to her, would you, Ms. Goldstein?”

“Of course, Ms. Graves,” Tina nodded her head with a smile, “She was toying with the idea of coming herself but-”

Penelope waved the arm that wasn’t in a sling in dismissal, “But someone wearing my face sentenced her to death and cast the cruciatus curse on her. I quite understand.”

Tina’s expression was something that looked awfully close to amusement, “Actually,” she said, “I was going to say _but she’s incredibly shy_. She holds you accountable for none of what happened, Ms. Graves. In fact, she’s quite distraught by the reports on what you endured.” Nodding towards the flowers on the nightstand, her lips twitched into a small but genuine smile, “She’s an odd one, Ma’am, but a good one, I believe.”

Ignoring the odd feeling behind her ribs, Penelope snorted rather inelegantly, “You first met when you tried to arrest her, Goldstein.”

“Yes, well,” Tina fidgeted, flustered, “circumstances notwithstanding, nothing inside of Newt’s case is inherently dangerous by nature. Not even the Nundu.”

“Not even the _what_?”

Tina hopped out of her chair quick as lightning and laughed nervously, “Wow!” She said, “Is that the time? Sorry, but I really have to be going! Get well soon, Ms. Graves-”

Thought’s of a _nundu_ still swirling in her mind, Penelope muttered the almost beseeching “Penelope, please.” with barely any notice to her brain. Mouth, you really need to cooperate with brain. Interdepartmental communication was key.

Freezing and looking back over her shoulder with poorly concealed shock, Tina gaped, “What, Ma’am?”

Too late to back out now, Penny you absolute idiot, “Call me Penelope,” she repeated, a little louder, “at least when we’re not at the office. You’re… the only one who noticed that anything was amiss, Goldstein.”

Eyes suspiciously misty, Tina smiled a wobbly smile and nodded her head, “Of course… Penelope. And please, call me Tina.”

“Tina.” Penelope inclined her head, “Between you and I, perhaps you may want to come in late the day I am allowed back to work.” Because she was going to raise all kinds of hell.

_Three fucking months_.

Stifling a laugh, Tina nodded, “Will do ma’am. I’ll show up fifteen minutes late with coffee for two, shall I?”

“An excellent plan.”

 

Tina actually showed up twenty-two minutes late, with coffee for two, tea for one, and a zoologist in tow. Newt Scamander (Artemis Newton Fido Scamander, actually) was not at all what Penelope was expecting her to be. She’d never met a magizoologist before, honestly, so really she shouldn’t have had any expectations at all. But she was expecting someone… taller, darker, more imposing. Tina had said that she was shy, but still.

Penelope hadn’t been expecting her to be _cute_.

Newt was small in the way of someone who was actively trying to be small, unhunched with her chin lifted Penelope suspected that the zoologist may have actually been taller than she was. She was almost _startlingly_ pretty, all sunkissed skin and wild red hair, with a smattering of freckles across her delicate features and eyes greener than grass when she finally looked up to smile sweetly at the auror.

Penelope took her coffee from Tina gratefully, her throat was a tiny bit raw from the thorough lashing she’d given her department on when to _report off behavior, Mercy Lewis help them all_. “Ms. Scamander, I presume?” She said after the first, fortifying sip.

Newt met her gaze with those meadow colored eyes for the fleetest of moments before she looked away again, her smile curling up and brightening her entire face - Penelope was _entranced_ -, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Graves.”

“Please,” the director waved towards the two chairs in front of her desk and simultaneously casting a discreet charm to make them more comfortable (the comfort of the people who dared venture into her office uninvited was rarely on her mind and the chairs were singularly hard), “have a seat. And do call me Penelope, Ms. Scamander. I hear you’re the one I owe my thanks to.”

Cheeks reddening fetchingly (wait what) as she folded herself into the chair on the left, Newt ducked her head, “Call me Newt,” she said, voice very soft, almost musical ( _wait what)_ “and really, I didn’t have much to do with that aside from the initial realization that Grindelwald would have had to keep you alive to keep… to keep _harvesting_ the ingredients for the polyjuice potion. The first place we looked was your apartment and the rest was really Tina and Mischief.”

Penelope’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline, completely ignoring her brain’s apparent mutiny - at least outwardly. “Mischief?” She asked. From what she recalled this was the same woman who had named a Thunderbird _Frank_ so she really shouldn’t be all that surprised.

Newt’s blush deepened and the only word that came to mind was _lovely_ , fuck it all, “My niffler,” she explained, “she has a certain knack for trouble, you see, hence the name. And she got loose inside your apartment -terribly sorry about that, I really do need to redo the latches on my case- and managed to wiggled her way through the wards keeping us from finding you. She then alerted Tina and I to your presence and… well…” she broke off, nodding down to the _mountain_ of paperwork threatening to take over Penelope’s desk, “I’m certain you have a report on the rest.”

“Multiple,” it came out more of  groan than a word and it had Tina laughing into her cardboard coffee cup, the little shit. Penelope had almost forgotten she was there, “And how was your morning, Tina?”

“Oh,” Tina sent her boss a sly look, “I’m going to say better than the rest of that lot,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, “but not quite as good as yours, Madam Director.”

And just what the fuck was _that_ supposed to mean? Penelope narrowed her eyes at her far too smug auror and pursed her lips, “You’re too happy this morning,” she said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, “Get with Damien and go check out the file I sent him this morning, we have a lead on a few of Grindelwald’s followers that are in a right tizzy about his arrest.”

Snapping to attention, and wow, yes, that was much better than the knowing looks, Tina rose to her feet, “Of course, Ma’am. Newt, do you -”

“I’m sure, that if Ms. Scamander could take on the greatest dark wizard of this century and live to tell the tale, she can find her way out of the building unassisted.” Penelope drawled, “Besides,” she turned her attention back to Newt, “I need to have a word or two with you about that interesting case of yours, if you don’t mind?”

Newt’s face paled, “I-”

“It’s nothing bad,” Penelope assured her, “You saved my life, Ms. Scamander, however you may feel about it, I owe you a great deal. And I thought I could _start_ by spending an hour or so helping you procure the necessary permits for some of the more… unusual animals in your care so no one gives you a hard time again.” Though, she wasn’t sure that there were permits in existence for a _nundu_. She may have to personally write a couple.

But she was the Director of Magical Security and it came with perks. Everyone else could _suck it_ , especially as Tina slipped silently from the room and Newt Scamander looked at her with barely concealed awe and blatant gratitude.

It was a real good look for her.

Penelope may have been a little fucked.

Newt smiled.

A  _lot_ fucked. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow the response to this so far has honestly blown me away! Thank you guys so much!!
> 
> I hadn't noticed that it marked this as complete - its's not complete. There is more femslash to go around I promise (also an Anastasia AU im working on oops)

Magic could only do so much to help her shattered knee. According to her healer, a tall, stern woman with astronomically long hair who went by simply ‘Lori’, Penelope would more than likely have trouble with it for the rest of her life. Everything else was doable - her shoulder was still a little sore and sometimes she got slightly winded just from climbing the stairs, but that would go away.

The cane was innocent enough, made of dark onyx and silver. It was pretty, sure, and held a compartment for her wand. But she shouldn’t need it. She was forty one years old, for fucks sake. It wasn’t enough for Grindelwald to torture her, wear her face, murder an innocent  _ child _ \- he had to go ahead and hobble her too.

If it was the universe playing a joke on her it wasn’t fucking funny.

Penelope waved her hand distractedly to answer the knock at her door and only look up when someone cleared their throat. 

“Edwards,” she nodded at the dark skinned woman in her doorway, “what can I do for you?”

They’d been awkward around her, since she’d ripped them all new assholes on her first day back. And a small, petty part of her was bitterly glad about it. If only they’d  _ noticed  _ then maybe she would be able to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep every other night. Maybe she would be able to walk properly. Maybe she’d be able to look at herself in the mirror without feeling sick to her goddamn stomach thinking of that  _ monster  _ under her skin.

“We…” Edwards looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight from foot to foot and looking everywhere but at her boss, “we were wondering if you’d join us for lunch?”

Without consulting her brain, a snort forced its way out of Penelope’s mouth, “That’s a first,” she said dryly, looking back to the paperwork she was supposed to be filling out, “you don’t need to suddenly take an interest in me as a person to assuage your guilt, Edwards.”

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Edwards answered softly, crossing the room in a few long strides until she was standing close enough to the desk that her shadow was cast onto Penelope’s report, “We realized that… that  _ had  _ we taken the time to get to know you as more than our hard-ass director, then maybe none of this would have happened. And we don’t want to assuage our guilt, Director, there’s nothing in the world that could do that. We are  _ horribly  _ guilty, and we probably always will be. We let you down and now we have to live with it.” 

Looking up and setting her pen down, Penelope kept her features neutral even as her heartstrings plucked like a violin. Fuck, but she loved her aurors, she really did. They were a good bunch. She’d hand picked them herself, trained them to her specifications, learned about their likes, their dislikes, their goals and dreams, but she’d never offered any of herself in return.

“I…” Penelope cleared her suddenly clogged throat, “There is nothing to be guilty about, Mrs. Edwards, you couldn’t have… I am not an easy person to get to know, I am aware of that.”

“Come to lunch with us?” Edwards asked again, “Tina is bringing along Ms. Scamander as well - did you hear that President Picquery is considering hiring her full time as a consultant for magical beasts? On account of all those trafficking cases we’ve had lately.”

_ No _ , actually, she hadn’t heard about that. “That’s a smart move on the president’s part,” she said diplomatically even as her stomach warmed at the thought of having Newt around  _ permanently _ , “however, I’m afraid I have too much work to do to leave the office right now. I’m sorry, Edwards, perhaps next time.”

Growing bolder, Edwards just huffed and quirked an eyebrow - a move she never would have dared  _ before _ , “It’s not like the paperwork is going to grow legs and run away if you leave for an hour.”

“It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen here, lately,” Penelope mumbled back, her lips quirking into a smile as Edwards laughed, “I suppose I can spare a little bit of time,” she finally conceded. 

The smile across Edward’s face could have outshone the sun, “Wonderful!” She said, clapping her hands together and turning back towards the door, “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

“Understood.” 

As the door shut behind her subordinate, Penelope looked back to the cane. She was going to have to use it. The cold weather had been aggravating her knee something fierce, no matter how many warming charms she cast under her pants or how tightly she wrapped it. 

Fuck everything, she did  _ not  _ want to be seen traipsing through New York with that thing. She was  _ Penelope Graves _ and she needed a glorified stick to help her put one foot in front of the other like she hadn’t spent forty years of her goddamn life doing exactly that.

It made her sick.

Everything made her sick.

She’d already thrown up that morning after a particularly damnable nightmare. She would have to get Newt alone and ask her how she brewed that wine from the Crumpet flowers.

The idea of food was singularly unappetizing but she’d already committed herself to going, and so fourteen minutes after Edwards left her office, Penelope entered the bullpen, cane and all.

All manner of chatter ceased immediately and, okay, that wasn’t at all suspicious. What the fuck.

The first person to speak was Tina, who had just finished securing her coat around her waist, “Ma’am!” She said, looking so damn excited it reminded Penelope of a puppy, “You really did decide to come!”

Nodding her head, Penelope cast a look around the room at her gathered aurors. The expressions on their faces raged from disbelief to straight up shock, until she reached the corner of the room where Newt Scamander was beaming at her like it was the best news to reach MACUSA in weeks.

“Ms. Scamander,” she greeted warmly (too warmly, reign it in, Penny), “you’re looking well. How is your occamy doing?” The last time they’d spoken Newt had mentioned that one of her  _ many _ occamies had apparently come down with a cold. According to the other woman it was equal parts hysterical and concerning when an occamy sneezed and went from the size of a garter snake to the size of a  _ basilisk  _ in their shock.

“Much better, thank you!” Newt answered with enthusiasm, tucking a lock of vibrant hair behind one ear.

Fuck, that was not an appropriate workplace level of adorable.

What the  _ fuck,  _ Scamander who gave you the  _ right _ ?

 

Lunch was, surprisingly enjoyable. No one mentioned the cane or the fact that she ordered a salad and then didn’t touch it. Her auror’s quickly got over their initial reserve and were soon the loud, rowdy bunch she expected them to be. After the seventh napkin ball that Davies tried to throw down Gonzalez’s shirt, Dipper intervened and charmed an ice cube down the back of the man’s shirt.

Penelope had almost forgotten that she could laugh quite that hard. 

Then someone asked Newt about her book and it was like watching the sun come up. She went from shyly sipping from her water glass to waving her arms around because her passion simply couldn’t be contained in words. 

She spoke of her occamy habitats, the growing extinction rates among certain species in the Savannah, how to properly charm a demiguise with gingerbread biscuits ( _ cookies _ , Newt, those are called cookies. Considering England had supposedly invented the English language they sure didn’t have a solid grasp on the damn thing).  

Her entire body moved as she spoke, even her hair seemed to float.

No, wait, her hair was definitely moving. That was not a trick of the eye, something was rustling around under Newt’s curls.

“Newt,” Penelope said urgently, forgetting propriety and that they were in public for a moment and using her… friend’s?... first name without a thought, “there’s something in your hair.”

The next moment a dangly silver earring, two shiny beads, and what appeared to be three galleons and a sickle were dropped onto the table in front of startled Newt, followed by a chirping stick insect.

_ Bowtruckle _ , Penelope’s mind supplied.

“Oh,” Newt sighed, scooping the little creature up in her hands and lifting him up to eye level while the entire group watched in rapt attention, “thank you, Pickett.” She said seriously.

The bowtruckle, Pickett, chirped again in response and scurried up Newt’s arm to perch happily on her shoulder.

Lifting her eyes with an embarrassed smile, Newt addressed everyone while looking directly at Penelope - ( _ because I was the one who alerted her to it,  _ Penelope told herself), “Mischief likes to nest in my hair,” she explained softly, “which means she will sometimes hide her shiny things there.”

“You don’t notice?” Edwards asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Good question, Edwards. 

“Normally she does it while I’m sleeping,” Newt shrugged, “and when I wake up I have about a million things to do. It doesn’t leave a lot of time to sit there and unbraid half a bank vault from my hair. I guess I’m just used to it.” Her smile was shy, but resplendent, “Pickett takes care of it for me if I don’t get around to it in a timely manner.” At her praise, Pickett chirped happily again from his new perch.

This woman was… absolutely unbelievable. Penelope couldn’t quite help staring at her over the rim of her own water glass once Newt was roped into a discussion about the nesting habits of the common niffler -not in human hair, seemed to be the consensus. It seemed that Mischief was as odd as the witch she had chosen. 

“Director,” fingers snapped in front of her face, “Director, are you there?”

Setting her cup down with a muted thump, Penelope turned to Davies with her most unimpressed expression, “Yes, Mr. Davies?”

“We were just wonderin’ if you’d heard anything back on that inquiry about the Christmas party.”

“If you’re asking if you have to attend  _ yes _ .” It was not technically a requirement for the whole department to attend, just the department  _ head _ , but if Penelope had to go fuck yes the rest of them had to. She was not going to suffer alone, “You all have to attend the Christmas party,” she said, louder, “no exceptions. I don’t care if you’re shooting flames out of your ass.”

Groans all around.

Good.

“You know, that’s actually the first symptom of an adverse reaction to a murtlap bite,” Newt mused around her last bite of pasta. 

_ Horrified _ groans.

Better.

Penelope raised her glass to the redheaded woman across the table.

Cheers.

(Extra fucked).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading! I'm real glad you like it!! <3
> 
> As always you can find me on Tumblr [here!](http://elevendamerons.tumblr.com/) <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovlies!!  
> Don't get too used to this update schedule - I'm going out of town for a few days and I'm not bringing my computer, so...
> 
> But, I wanted to give you all something for being SO tremendously amazing and sweet regarding this story, so I sat the fuck down and mainlined some coffee (black as my soul) and knocked chapter three out for you <3
> 
> Say a prayer for my gay ass as I travel to the straightest place in the country #RipMary

Queenie Goldstein really should have lost the ability to surprise Penelope years ago - the fact that she _hadn’t_ just went to show that she was an incredibly resilient young woman who was completely wasted in her chosen field and definitely deserved a raise.

She burst into Penelope’s office like a gust of wind, her cheeks and nose reddened from the cold air of New York in December, and smiled like she’d won the goddamn lottery,  “I’ll agree with you on one of those fronts, honey,” she winked as she set a dark brown bag on Penelope’s desk, “I ain’t never gonna turn down a raise.”

Lips twitching up into a smile, Penelope drawled, “I’ll pass it up the grapevine, Ms. Goldstein. Especially if you and your sister keep bringing me treats. What _is_ the occasion?”  Not that she would ever turn down free coffee.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Queenie shrugged one elegant shoulder, avoiding Penelope’s eyes, “Just glad to have you back is all.” She said, “While _he_ was here I was banned from your office, did you know?” She looked so _sad_ as she spoke, it pulled at Penelope’s heartstrings; of all the people she’d ever met, no one deserved sadness less than Queenie Goldstein, “I thought… well, I thought you didn’t like me anymore. I tried to apologize but you… _he_ always waved me off.”

 _Queenie_.

Holy shit, she was going to march down into their holding cells and punch that conniving, cruel, son of a fucking-

Penelope reached out without thinking, gripping the younger Goldstein’s fingers tightly and hoping her eyes conveyed how _incredibly_ sorry she was that Grindelwald had made her doubt herself like that, “I’ll never wave you off,” she promised, “Queenie, I can’t promise a lot of things in my line of work, but I can _promise_ you I’m going to try my damndest to make sure you never feel like that again.”

Blinking back tears, Queenie smiled a hesitant, watery smile and nodded her head, blonde curls bobbing along with the movement as she squeezed Penelope’s hand back, “Thank you, Ms. Graves.”

“Penelope, please, Queenie. We’re… I mean, I would like to think we’re friends.” She would be the best goddamn friend that Queenie Goldstein had ever had if it kept her from ever feeling sad again.

Queenie must have heard her thoughts, she didn’t have her shields up, couldn’t bear to close up her mind with the other woman looking so vulnerable - the tears fell, then, ( _and fuck_ , _fuck, fuck, Penelope was not equipped to deal with this - this shit was not in her job description!),_ streaming down her face and leaving shimmery, wet tracks, and she lunged over the desk to cup Penelope’s face in her hands and press a warm kiss to her forehead, “You’re so good, Penelope Graves. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Against her better judgment, Penelope nodded her assent. She wasn’t so sure, sometimes. She wasn’t like Queenie, or Tina, or even Newt. She was rougher around the edges, every side of her filed down until she was sharp as a razor (and twice as pretty, as Seraphina had always liked to tell her as they clinked their wine glasses together). Queenie was good, with her kind smiles and soft touches. Tina was good, protective and strong, wild behind her eyes but calm with a wand.

She wasn’t like Queenie, or Tina, or even Newt. She was rougher around the edges, every side of her filed down until she was sharp as a razor (and twice as pretty, as Seraphina had always liked to tell her as they clinked their wine glasses together). Queenie was good, with her kind smiles and soft touches. Tina was good, protective and strong, wild behind her eyes but calm with a wand.

She was rougher around the edges, every side of her filed down until she was sharp as a razor (and twice as pretty, as Seraphina had always liked to tell her as they clinked their wine glasses together). Queenie was good, with her kind smiles and soft touches. Tina was good, protective and strong, wild behind her eyes but calm with a wand.

Queenie was good, with her kind smiles and soft touches. Tina was good, protective and strong, wild behind her eyes but calm with a wand.

Tina was good, protective and strong, wild behind her eyes but calm with a wand.

 _Newt_ was good, surrounded by animals who trusted her with everything they had to give.

They were so good and Penelope was nothing like them.

Queenie hummed knowingly, perching on the edge of Penelope’s desk like she was raised in a goddamn barn (the other witch laughed at the thought) “You know,” she said after a moment, “it’s not healthy to compare yourself to others, honey. The ocean is pretty but so are flowers and they’re nothing alike.” At Penelope’s frown she shrugged, “Just somethin’ to think about is all.”

Something to think about, indeed.

“Are you gonna open your present?” Queenie asked after letting her boss stew inside of her own head for a few moments more, “I cast a warmin’ charm on it and everythin’. It’s from the best bakery in town.”

Penelope’s eyebrows rose as she carefully unfurled the top of the bag and pulled out a pastry shaped like... “Is this a niffler?”

Blonde curls bobbing as she nodded enthusiastically, Queenie pressed her fingers to her uncontainable smile, “Isn’t it adorable, Penny?”

It was quite cute, “It’s not going to hide things in my hair, is it?”

Laughter bubbled out of Queenie, bright and beautiful. Penelope could almost see the sound - it sparkled around them. “No,” she said, “only Mischief does that, and only to Newt. She _is_ an odd one.”

Whether she meant the woman or the niffler - _yes_.

“Ms. Scamander - Newt - she is rather…” _spectacular_ , “unusual.”

Something sparked behind Queenie’s eyes and Penelope realized that _shit she still hadn’t put her_ fucking _shields up_.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ . _Engage occlumency_ then _think sappy thoughts, Penny._

“Queenie,” she said, narrowing her eyes in warning, “don't.”

Her feelings towards Newt Scamander were friendly. No more. No less. And definitely no more. No matter how sweet her smile was. Or how green her eyes were. Or how passionate she was about her creatures.

Groaning like she’d just been hit with a hex, Queenie pouted dramatically, “You can’t tell me ‘no’ and then write her a sonnet in your head!”

“I just did, Goldstein,” Penelope picked up her pen again and pointed it at the younger woman, “get those ideas out of your head.”

“You could ask her to the Christmas party!” The blonde burst out like she just couldn’t control herself when the possibility of a little matchmaking came up, “You know the wizarding world isn’t as backwards as the no maj’s about that kinda thing - two ladies and two fellas. We just are a bit archaic when it comes to…” her expression closed up and her mouth shut with a snap.

Penelope’s heart clenched when she remembered - Queenie had a soft spot for the no maj that had gotten caught up in the fiasco with Newt’s animals. Jack or something like that, “When it comes to our policies on no maj’s,” she finished with a sigh, bringing the end of her pen to her mouth and worrying it between her teeth.

Queenie’s no maj had been obliviated just like the rest of the city, Penelope couldn’t do anything for the other witch, even if she decided to completely ignore the law (which, considering she had just drawn up half a dozen permits that hadn’t existed before Newt Scamander arrived in New York, she doubted she would have had a problem doing), “I’m sorry, Queenie.”

“It’s not your fault, honey.” Queenie reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Penelope’s ear, “And just think about it, okay? I’m not gonna push, I just want you to be happy is all. I think you two would be good for each other, ya know?”

She was so earnest, so _good_ , that sometimes it was a little alarming. At first, Penelope had been suspicious of her, the bright, beautiful witch who bought flowers for the women at the reception desk and baked cookies for the house elves who worked the lifts. No one was that good for purely altruistic reasons.

Except, she learned, Queenie Goldstein.

“Yeah,” Penelope said after a moment, her voice a little thicker than she would have liked, “I know, Queenie.”

 

* * *

 

Artemis Newton Fido Scamander was a well mannered, soft spoken sweetheart. Right up until the moment that she saw the abysmal state that a gang of traffickers had kept their Re’em in.

Penelope had been skeptical about bringing Newt into the field - not because she doubted Newt’s abilities (see: _fucking Grindelwald)_ but more because Newt was very adamant about using violence as a last resort and a lot of times hexing first and asking questions later was the difference between life and death.

Turns out, Newt had no problem drawing her wand and sending a particularly nasty stinging hex at the first sign of trouble. In fact, she even seemed to enjoy it a little.

She whirled around, pointing her wand at the spot just behind Penelope’s shoulder and shouting, _“Sardinis!_ ” Blue light shot from her wand, sailing past the director’s ear.

Penelope had never heard that spell before but she didn’t get attacked from behind so she counted it as a win, engaged in her own battle as she was.

Dueling was something that came naturally to her, but that was no reason to let her guard down, especially since her cane was back at the office and her knee was less than pleased with her for all the running she had done.

The satisfying slap of a fist hitting someone in the face had Penelope looking over her shoulder just in time to watch the man in front of Newt drop to the ground, nose obviously broken, and an orange burst of light to pass inches from her own nose.

That just wouldn’t fucking do.

Wand slashing through the air like a knife, Penelope fired back. Her trick, which she had passed on to every auror to come through her office over the years, was to go for the spells that the enemy wouldn’t expect - or better yet, didn’t _know_.

It was much easier to cast a countercurse than it was to physically move out of the way and she’d found that the extra second when they didn’t know what to cast and were, instead, diving to the ground to avoid getting hit, gave her ample time to send another hex in their distraction.

“Duck, boss!” Tina called, and Penelope heeded the warning almost on autopilot, trained to react to her auror’s before her brain had time to fully process what was going on.

The spell that had been aimed for her back hit the man she’d been dueling with and he went down clutching at his legs - which were now facing the wrong way.

 _Knee reversal hex_.

The person who had fired it hit the ground a moment later. Newt’s wand was still pointing in the woman’s direction, her chest heaving under her simple gray blouse and her hair a wild halo of fire around her face - it was really not the fucking _time_ to be absolutely captivated, but Newt glanced up to meet Penelope’s eye for the briefest of moments and she found herself wondering, _at really the wrong time_ , what the magizoologist thought when she looked at her.

Thankfully, and there’s a word Penelope never thought she’d use, a slicing hex grazed her cheek and brought her back into the present _for fucks sake, Penny, get it together_.

She shot back with an _orbis_ and _langlock_ in quick succession, leaving the offending wizard ( _animal abusing piece of shit_ , her brain supplied very helpfully) trapped in the ground up to their shoulders with their tongue stuck to the roof his mouth.

A little juvenile, maybe, but effective nonetheless.

“ _Expulso!_ ” Newt’s voice shouted, followed by the bang and flash of blue light associated with the explosion charm - the last of the bastards went flying into wall of the warehouse hard enough that Penelope actually worried for the building’s structural integrity for the fleetest second before she was brought back to the there and now by Newt’s voice going shrill as she yelled.

“You think it’s _fun_ to tie up this poor creature and _bleed him_?” She asked, and for a peace loving scientist, she sure looked like she was about to flay that man’s flesh from his bones.

Tina stepped forward, towards the redheaded witch, her arm outstretched and her mouth open like she was going to stop her, but Penelope shook her head.

Edward’s, the only other auror assigned to the case, rocked back on her heels, apparently content to watch the show.

It wasn’t very directorly of her, but fuck if Penelope wasn’t right along with her.

Re’em blood was uniquely capable of greatly enhancing the strength of the person who drank it. The animal itself was beautiful in it’s own right, even crammed in a too small cage and covered in barely healed gashes - it’s fur was a soft golden color, the shade of sunsets in October, and it’s horns gleamed silver even in the low light.

“ _Locomotor Mortis!_ ” Newt hissed as the man attempted to get to his feet - his legs snapped together and he hit the ground again with a satisfying groan, “Did I say you could move?” She asked, eyes narrowed dangerously and wand still up, “Did I _say_ you could do anything at all?” She hadn’t, and she looked like she could have thrown every hex she had ever learned at the man for his infraction, but there was an injured Re’em to deal with and Newt’s soft heart could only let the creature stay unchecked for so long.

 With a final, venomous look, she cast a bat bogey hex for good measure, and Penelope could have laughed at how casually she did it, before _apparating_ across the room to the cage and promptly unlocking it.

“She’s mad,” one of the incapacitated traffickers whispered, his voice strained and two of his fingers pinching his bloody nose together, “she didn’t even use a wand. She just… she punched me!” He looked horridied, "There's fish comin' out of Walter's nose!"

That must have been what  _sardinis_ did. Penelope felt her lips twitch.

 _Creative_.

Edwards started laughing then, loud and unrestrained, "Fucking Newt Scamander, huh?" she asked no one in particular before turning on her heel and starting towards where Newt had already managed to charm the scared Re’em from it’s cage and was working on healing up the cuts as best she could.

Penelope’s eyes tracked the way that Newt’s hand smoothed over the fur, the way her head bent towards the creature as she spoke softly; the brightness of her eyes even from yards away.

“Boss?” Tina asked, eyebrows raising towards her hairline, “Are you alright?”

Clearing her throat and trying to look authoritative, Penelope’s shoulders straightened even as her knee bitched at her like she’d just put her shoes on it’s desk, “Wrap it up here quickly,” she said, “get these assholes processed and make sure I have everyone’s reports by ten tonight.”

“On it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Edwards and Tina had their reports on Penelope’s desk by nine-fifty-seven.

Ten fifteen: still no Newt.

Irritation prickled behind Penelope’s closed eyes. She just wanted to go… well, not home, but to the place she’d been living since she’d been let out of the hospital. She hadn’t been able to even stomach walking into the apartment where Grindelwald had kept her captive for three fucking months.

She had another small property, over in the West Village, that she had been keeping as a safehouse of sorts but it was looking like it was going to become her permanent residence because she wasn’t even brave enough to go into her own _goddamn house_.

What the fuck kind of auror was she?

Scared of a ghost in her house.

But sometimes she felt like he was right behind her, waiting. Wearing her face. Wearing his own. She could see him in the foggy bathroom mirror after a bath. Outside of her window when the skies were dark. Silhouetted inside every nook and shadow she passed. He was _everywhere_ which is just where he wanted to be.

A shudder bit through her, had her teeth clenching and her fingers fisting into her hair. He’d made a point, when he had been executing his little ruse, to flaunt it in front of her. He’d touch himself in her body, with her hands. Run fingers through her hair, slide them down her chest and under her shirt - all while she was trapped like an animal unable to do more than watch him.

“Penny? Do you have a minute?”

At the sound of Newt’s gentle voice in her doorway, Penelope snapped to attention, schooling her features down until she was reasonably sure that she no longer looked as close to a complete and total breakdown as she felt.

She’d put her hair up, was the first thing the director noticed about the magizoologist. Her hair was pulled away from her face, secured in a messy bun on the top of her head, and the sleeves of her shirt had been rolled up. There was mud on the hem of her pants, and a smudge of dirt on her cheeks. Grass stains on her knees.

Then:  _Penny?_

“You’ve got the Re’em all settled in, then?” Penelope asked, voice impressively steady.

Newt nodded, “I’ve named him Steven.”

“Steven,” Penelope repeated.

 _Frank. Mischief. Doogal. Pickett. Addie. Now Steven_.

Good grief, Scamander.

“He likes it,” Newt defended herself, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, “he’s quite comfortable in the habitat that used to belong to Frank.”

“Of that,” Penelope allowed herself a small, indulgent smile at the redhead, “I have no doubt. You are quite skilled at making broken beasts feel right at home.” _Present company included_. “Do you have your report done?”

_It was nearly half past ten, Scamander, you better have that report done. I want to fucking sleep._

Newt, by the look on her face, did not have her report done. Goddammit.

“I did have it,” she said softly, looking quite chastised already, “but then Addie got into a little bit of a tiff with Sally - the Erumpent- and, well… it got a little lost.”

“Lost?”

“Trampled and lost, yes.”

_Good fucking grief, Scamander._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may technically be a story about Penelope and Newt but Queenie has my h e a r t and I love her more than gigglewater.
> 
> I hope you all have a great weekend! And as always you can find me on tumblr [here!](http://elevendamerons.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> I will have my phone while I'm in Texas (because it's 2017 not 1926) so feel free to drop me a line either on tumblr or here! I'd love to hear from you!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can find me on Tumblr [here!](http://elevendamerons.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> pls come talk to me about this fucking movie i am so into it
> 
> ive also made a gifset of Penny and Newt's first meeting because I have no restraint [Here!](http://elevendamerons.tumblr.com/post/161330054045/i-hear-youre-the-one-to-thank-for-my-rescue-ms)


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